In a hot and loud classroom somewhere in Manhattan Girl in black stares out the window yearning for peace. Oblivious teacher in a button-up shirt gestures to an image of the 1960s Students who […]
In a hot and loud classroom somewhere in Manhattan
Girl in black stares out the window yearning for peace.
Oblivious teacher in a button-up shirt gestures to an image of the 1960s
Students who never had phones scream about peace.
Boy who only wants to pass this class in the back of the classroom
Mindlessly copies down notes about protests for peace.
Student in a hood, head bent, glancing around every now and then
Holds their phone under the desk, ensuring that they’ll never know peace.
Somebody’s phone, tossed to the bottom of their backpack amongst gum wrappers and quarters
Has burrowed within it, if you know where to look, a passionate rant about peace.
Slightly over budget black car outside, air conditioner whirs and hums
Most likely irreparably damaging the environment but for now bringing peace.
Man whose eyes are not on the road envisions his big break, his retirement savings, his promotion:
His name sitting quietly under a headline proclaiming worldwide peace.
Nearly microscopic ant desperately trying to evade the unforgiving, ever-advancing wheel
Cannot begin to imagine peace.
On a date that maybe exists, so far in the future, my god, so far,
Maya Wang-Habib’s life might not even change once we have peace.